5:59 AM
by FlameTamer16
Summary: We've all tried writing letters - to apologize, to thank, to confess. But Carter Kane is far from ordinary, and so he tries something a little different. An audio recording. After all, he's had some practice.


**A/N: Hiya, everyone! So, this is an entry for I'mDifferent-GetOverIt's Zarter Contest. It's also my very first TKC fic, so I would really, really appreciate any reviews or constructive critisism to tell me if I've gotten everything In Character and how to improve. You may have seen me around the PJO fandom, but this is my first time here.**

**So…I hope you guys like it, AC, books, Different! *crosses fingers***

**###**

*click*

Hi. Carter here.

So far my sister and I have been making recordings to send out, trying to recruit magicians. Well, there wasn't a lot to do this week, and I've been really distracted...the point is, this time I'm recording this as a kind of letter, I guess. [Shut up, Sadie. It's not a love note.]

So...Zia.

I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now, but I never got the chance with all that's been happening over here, with training and everything else. [No, I don't think she wants to know about the exploding hippo, Sadie. Can you please leave?]

Anyway, I thought this would be the easiest way to communicate with you.

There's a lot of things I want to say, Zia. A lot. First of all I want to apologize. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened...from the day we came to your village. I knew the Zia I had...er, interacted with [stop laughing, Sadie] before wasn't really you, and I'm sorry for treating you that way. It was hard for me to accept that everything had happened wasn't real, but it must have been even harder on you. So I'm sorry.

I also wanted to thank you, which I never got to do. You saved my life...[7...8...no, 6...9?] er, several times. Sadie too. And...you taught us a lot. Not just about fire hieroglyphs, although I'm glad you did, because Sadie and I would be roasted at the bottom of the Lake of Fire if you hadn't. But other stuff too. Like how to do the right thing even when it's not easy. And to keep going even when you're scared to death.

I'm not going to lie. I was completely devastated when you...well, your shanti shattered. We became really close on that journey, Zia. I was pretty sure you were the only one who understood me. I still think it's true. Besides Sadie, that is, but we're related. [Stop looking at me like that. You ARE my sister, right?] Anyway.

I thought about you a lot after that. I don't know why, but I knew I needed to find you. Maybe it was because you have a big role in all this Chaos mess. Or maybe it was something else. Either way I'm really glad I found you. Even if you punched me in the face.

I know you would've gotten mad at me if I were to tell you this earlier, but I know. About what happened to your village, about your life after. You - well, whatever part of you that was in your shabti - showed me the shrine you made to your parents. If it makes you feel any better, the same thing happened to me. Kind of.

My Mom died when I was eight, too. There was a huge court battle, involving a spatula, a lot of whipped cream, and a rubber duck. But that's another story. [Geez, you haven't heard it that many times. Fine then. Bye.] Sadie and I were separated. I had to travel the world looking for artifacts with my dad, and Sadie had to stay behind in London with our grandparents. Then as if that wasn't enough, Dad died at the museum. He was the only person who really knew me. I had never gotten close to anyone, not even my sister. We moved around too much for me to get to know anyone else, and I never could get along well with other people anyway. It was like I was from another dimension: different from everybody else. Never on the same page.

My Dad told me, once, he wanted me to find someone, one person I could open up to. It never happened though, because, like I said, I just couldn't form a bond with anyone, and travel made it even harder. And I don't know what's going on between us, or any of that, but you're still my friend, right, Zia? After everything?

My whole life came crashing down when I became a magician. I lost my Dad, an he was everything to me. But...I guess if there was one good thing I got out of this, it was meeting you. I trust you. I know you'll understand what I'm talking about. You're the only one who does. Sadie only knows because she got into my head.

We haven't talked since...well, since you left. Honestly? It's killing me. I don't know what I did wrong, but I would go back and change it f I could. But I can't. So I'm just going to hope this thing actually reaches you.

Look, what I've really been trying to say, Zia, this whole time, I've been trying to tell you...I...I-

[*BANG*]

[He did WHAT?]

I'm really sorry. One of the new ones just blew up the kitchen. I have to go. But Zia? I...I miss you. And I really, really hope you reply.

*click*

Zia Rashid stared at the small, square voice recorder in the palm of her hand. The flaming candle by her bedside flickered, casting eerie shadows across the wall. The audio device had mysteriously appeared above her head ten minutes ago - at around 5:40 in the morning - although why someone would send it at that time Zia had no idea. Perhaps they had forgotten about the time difference. Knowing Carter, it was likely.

Mixed emotions rolled around inside of her, sending her brain spinning. She had been trying to avoid talking - or even thinking - about a certain Kane ever since she had returned to the First Nome. All it did was cause confusion and distracted her, and she hated being confused, and feeling something which she couldn't control. So Zia had condemned the thoughts to the back of her mind and focused all her attention, all her energy on her work.

And now it was back to slap her in the face.

_"I really, really hope you reply."  
><em>  
>Could she? Could she honestly tell him how she felt without hurting him?<p>

But what exactly _did_ she feel?

"اللعنة!"

Zia fell back onto her bed, mind racing.

"Zia Rashid?"

She bolted upright. Was she just imagining things, or was there a ghost in her room?

The "ghost" slowly solidified, filling in with colors and shades, until she was looking at a man dressed in torn, mud caked overalls, tattered straw hat, and carrying a rusted hoe. He looked like a farmer who had been in the same set of clothes for a very, very long time.

"Hi," The man said nonchalantly. "I'm Ptah."

Zia felt her mouth drop open. She scrambled out of bed and knelt quickly at the god's bare, scarred feet. It was safest to show respect; with gods, you could never know.

Ptah sighed. "None of that now, please. I'm not like some of my other relatives."

Zia rose hesitantly, watching the god warily with sharp, amber eyes.

"In all respect, Lord, how did you enter here?" She asked cautiously, genuinely curious. Gods couldn't cross over a magician's boundaries, and as far as she knew, Ptah was no exception.

The god smiled wryly, holding his hand out, and the small audio recorder floated into his palm. "I'm the god of creation, my dear. A small, tiny part of me exists in every invention, every little object that man created. Including this little thing here."

Zia stood silent.

"But I suppose you're wondering why I'm here at all, yes?" He went on without waiting for a reply. "I suppose you could say I have a...message for you. Some advice. You have a choice to make, Zia. More than one, actually. One will affect your entire world, all of us. And one will affect you, yourself. Your fate. But ultimately even that will make a difference on ours."

He looked out the slate window, where the sun was peeking out from the horizon.

"I am the god of creation, Zia. I would hate to think all I've worked for would be put to waste." His eyes twinkled as a few streaks of red light filtered through the glass, and he turned, clearly signaling that her audience was over. "A close friend of mine once said that daybreak was a good time for making decisions. I do hope that's true."

She was still staring at the empty space where he had been five minutes later, stunned, which really was something - Zia Rashid did not go easily into shock.

A sharp rap on her door finally snapped her out of stupor, and she darted over to open it, well aware that she was still in her nightclothes.

Amos Kane stood in the doorway, clothed in the robes of the Chief Lector, scepter in hand. He smiled understandingly when he saw her, taking in her crumpled clothes and tousled hair.

"Do you need some time off, Zia? You've been working late for more than a week. You need more than four hours of sleep." His eyes softened. "Take care of yourself, Zia, or you won't be much help to the House, either."

She was about to say no. She was fine. The House needed extra hands, and she had one of the most important roles to play. Besides, what else was she supposed to-

And it hit her like a pile of bricks. A god doesn't take the time to appear and give you a message just because he feels like it. He had spoken about a choice, and with a startling certainty Zia was beginning to realize it was much closer than she thought.

"Yes. Please, Chie- Amos," She corrected herself. He hated her to call him formally. "That...would be nice. Thank you."

Amos smiled, turning to leave. "Of course. But, Zia?"

She looked back at him.

"What do you plan to do?" There was genuine curiosity in his voice, not at all demanding.

Zia put a hand on the door knob and glanced back at the window, where the glowing orb had finally risen into the sky. A smile of her own spread across her face, a sensation she hadn't experienced for a long time.

"I'm going to set things right."

**A/N: And there you have it. I hope you enjoyed! **

**Oh, and in case you're wondering, that Arabic in the middle was what Google Translate says is the equivilent of "Damn it!".**

**You'll probably be seeing more of me around here, too. The world needs more Zarter. :)**


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